


shadowplay

by wajjs



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Implied Jaytemis, M/M, Organized Crime, Pre-Relationship, no capes AU, the Wayne family as a powerful organized crime family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:48:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21814663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wajjs/pseuds/wajjs
Summary: Behind a glass, around shadows, distorted by expensive alcohol.  Bright eyes that look at him, a smirk that is only coy on its edges, delicious in its promise.  The ring a mark that doesn’t even come close to scratching the first layers of the surface.“Mr. Wilson,” the bottom lip against the rim of the glass all teasing softness, the utterance of his name pure amusement.  “Enjoying the party?”
Relationships: Jason Todd/Slade Wilson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 86





	shadowplay

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in reply to a prompt asking for sladejay, the setting being that the batboys are the sons of the most powerful crime boss, Bruce Wayne. That, plus an arranged marriage and Slade simply not caring about any ring around any finger. [You can find the full prompt in the og tumblr post here!](https://wajjs.tumblr.com/post/189695124899/hello-what-about-sladejay-with-the-batboys-as)

**shadowplay**

There could be glamour here. There could be shine here. And perhaps to some there is. But those are the foolish ones, the ones that by the next gathering are all gone or consumed.

Those are also the blind ones, too excited by their newfound wealth to realize when true power walks into the room. Power that is calculated, contained, filled with youth. Power that knows no owner even if they carry on a pretense in the form of a pure gold ring wrapped around a finger. Power that is not  _ his _ to have.

Good thing he’s never been good at measuring his ambitions.

Behind a glass, around shadows, distorted by expensive alcohol. Bright eyes that look at him, a smirk that is only coy on its edges, delicious in its promise. The ring a mark that doesn’t even come close to scratching the first layers of the surface.

“Mr. Wilson,” the bottom lip against the rim of the glass all teasing softness, the utterance of his name pure amusement. “Enjoying the party?”

The subtle shift of lights and sound in their surroundings only serves to accentuate the sheer power. A force to be admired, looked at,  _ desired. _

“Alone, Mr.  _ Todd _ ?” he says instead and feels an almost forgotten thrill course in his blood, pumped into every vessel by his heartbeat.

When the glass comes down, rests easy and calm on the bar, it’s a win of the greater scales.

He does his homework, is diligent in the process, gathers all the information that he can and most of what he shouldn’t. There is no glamour and here rumours are paid in coin and in blood, sometimes a cocktail mix of the two. Yet even then mouths run like silent rivers hidden underneath layers of soil, their exacerbation made more intense whenever the water has a taste of  _ Wayne _ .

Because Bruce Wayne is always the man of the hour, perhaps even the man of time. Bruce Wayne is living proof that what they all want is achievable, except that it isn’t, because everything and anything has already been claimed by his prowess. There are no stairs to the top left undestroyed. Like flies of fruit the other families, left gasping for any crumb of glory, they all circle and fly around the only exploitable opening Wayne kept around: his children.

It’s too close to a suicidal mission but no one wins at anything if one is not willing to bleed. Getting to a certain level means not fearing a cut or ten.

He can’t help but smile as he sits by his desk, manila folders spread open in front of him like alluring legs do, hinting at what is laid bare for the taking. It’s quite an interesting picture, the older son breaking from the unsaid rules with enviable ease, the noose falling onto the neck next in line. Elopement, love, a selfish and almost narcissistical game to be playing when the stakes are as high as they are. The Waynes make it work, though. They always do.

So he smiles, traces with his fingers the face of power in the forefront picture that has captured him so. Says,

“Let’s see if you can dance in the fire, too.”

The next time he sees him, there’s a woman by his side. She’s tall and threatening with the beauty of a battle axe - she’s, for lack of a finer word,  _ breathtaking. _ As he approaches they don’t look at each other: they look at him. Like he’s not the predator he indeed is. Like these are shark riddled waters and he’s the fool leaving a trail of crimson behind.

“Mr. Wilson,” he speaks before the three of them are fully in the same circle, a warning, a test. “Good to see you’ve made it.”

An eyebrow right above an eyepatch twitches, minuscule motion that could’ve never gone unnoticed when the truth always escapes in the finest details. “And why shouldn’t I have?”

The woman smiles a promise of war, extends her hand when the one standing by her side never moved an inch. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wilson. Plenty has been said about you.”

He smiles, takes the hand and kisses the rough, scarred knuckles. If his heart wasn’t already set, he’d possibly be reconsidering things now. She is also power incarnate. “The pleasure is all mine.”

For all his careful planning, when it happens it comes off more as a bulldozer tearing away at carefully constructed walls. Beauty comes in many ways and manners, this being one of them all the same.

“You know,” he says, closing the door behind his back and pocketing a key he definitely shouldn’t have, “you sure are an interesting mystery, Mr. Wilson. Figuring it out has been the most fun I’ve had in months.”

“Oh?” He smiles and looks at the other through the reflection in the mirror, finishes arranging his tie right where he wants it to be even if he’s now suspecting it won’t stay in said place for too long. “Is that so, Mr. Todd?”

The reflective surface lets them track each other’s movements. The sureness in the steps, the dexterity in the fingers adjusting the cufflinks.

“Yes,” Todd doesn’t smile with his lips, but with his eyes. Stands only centimeters away from the other’s back. “Pity it’s coming to an end so soon. There is only one thing left for me to understand.”

“I wonder what it might be. You are truly a clever man, after all.”

In the silence that follows he turns around, lets them stand face to face not for the first time, hopefully not for the last. They are both measuring words and actions, calculating costs and consequences. Everything has a price here. Even things such as this.

“Your angle, Mr. Wilson,” Todd says, reaches out a hand to feel the softness of the jet black material covering a muscular chest. “Your  _ goal. _ I’m well aware you want me, but there’s a question that begs asking: why?”

He laughs, a surprised, elated sound that would expose his throat had they been anywhere else but the privacy of this room. He laughs and takes that final step towards the edge of the sword, lifts a hand to touch the face before him, trace in the flesh the line of a cheekbone. Wraps an arm around a waist that helps support the weight of a world upon broad but young shoulders.

“ _ Why _ should be the easiest thing to answer,” he breathes and commits to memory the way those long eyelashes flutter at the nearly null distance. “ _ Why, _ I believe I know just how to disclose it to you. You’re a marvel, Mr. Todd.” Something I cannot have. Something I want to own. “It’s only natural I appreciate power and beauty when it comes to you so effortlessly.”

This close, he can see all the thousands of lights making Todd’s eyes glimmer, alive as they read every finely printed word between the lines. No meaning left unturned.

“If you say so,” his mouth stretches into the curve of sin, the sureness of sharp teeth about to dig into tender flesh, “ _ Slade. _ ”


End file.
